


i believe in love, always

by abbyli



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Jonsa, F/M, Gendry at Winterfell, Gendry is saved by Nymeria, Pining, Reunions, bamf Sansa, jonsa baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-03 20:47:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11540154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbyli/pseuds/abbyli
Summary: "Loving you was easy. Losing you was the hard part."When Gendry is informed by Jon Snow that Arya was killed during the battle with the white walkers, he doesn't believe it. He can't.So he makes the decision to go and look for her. And he won't stop until he finds her and brings her home.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: Due to the possibility of that wolf being Nymeria (I don’t think it is, I think it is one of the wolves in her pack though) and Nymeria being ‘too wild’ for Arya, I had this little plot bunny pop into my head. Imagine Gendry stopped rowing and he’s heading North.

.

He notices the group of wolves from the distance.

At first he thinks it’s about a dozen wolves but as he moves along the line, he sees he is quite wrong.

He loses count along the way but at last, _at last_ he sees the alpha, bringing up the rear.

She’s a magnificent creature, standing at least five feet tall with a white face and hues of scarlet through her coat.

_Nymeria._

He has no idea how but he just knows. That’s the wolf that his Arya told him about. Her Nymeria.

There’s a _crack_ and it takes him a minute to realize he had just stepped on a branch.

Nymeria’s head raises, her eyes bright as she immediately finds him in the snowy dim.

Gendry freezes. Every particle in his body is telling him to run but he won’t. He _can’t._

The line of wolves continues to pass by him, and suddenly, Nymeria is right there. He lets out a small gasp, unashamed to admit that he is full of fear. Arya had told him what the wolves could do. How brutal they could be if their pack was threatened.

But he’s not a threat. He doesn’t think he is at least. He just wants to see...to know.

Nymeria holds him with her pierced gaze, the hair on her haunches going up.

_Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Just be._

He stares back at her, not breaking the gaze. He only blinks when his eyes begin to water, his heart hammering in his throat.

Then the she-wolf lets out a small _hmph,_ lowering her head.

Gendry waits, unable to even breathe. Nymeria picks up her pace and follows her pack, her head at risen at medium height as she looks out over her pack members.

He understands the invitation, and falls into step a few paces behind the majestic creature.

-;

The wolves lead him north. The air grows even more frigid than before and he discovers that his finger tips are beginning to turn blue.

The pack stops to rest for the night. The eldest are in the front of the group, while Nymeria is in the middle, an even path for her to spring in case of a threat. He moves over towards the trees, lowering himself down against a great oak. His back presses into the bark as he rubs his hands together, desperate to get some circulation once again. He hopes he will not lose his fingers. He needs them to hold his father’s war hammer.

There’s a small noise and he looks up to see Nymeria standing there, gazing down at him like a great wolf queen.

_Warrior queen Nymeria._

He shivers again, another gust of icy wind going right through his layers and down to his bones. Nymeria sniffs, her nose pressing to his shoulder. He holds completely still, letting her do what she’s doing – _what_ she’s doing, he has no idea – waiting and breathing as best he can.

Then, the wolf does the unexpected. She noses his shoulder, bumping him with the top of her head, and lays down beside him. Gendry stares at her for a solid minute, unable to believe his eyes. He can feel the warmth radiating off of her magnificent form already. His hands have finally stopped shaking.

He understands the unspoken invitation and he waits for just a moment before leaning down and curling into the wolf’s side. Her body eases around him like a blanket and her warmth spreads over him, soothing him and seconds later his eyes are growing heavy.

_Sleep._

He thinks about Arya. He wonders again, for the millionth time since they had separated, if she was all right. If she was alive.

He’s sure she is. He has a feeling that Nymeria would sense it if her human was gone. He doesn’t think Nymeria would be as gentle with him if Arya was dead.

He finally gives in to the sleep that is beckoning him.

-;

Four wildings come across the pack in the late evening hours.

“I can’t believe my eyes. A human with the pack.”

“Could he be a Stark?” another man with wild black hair asks and Gendry’s breath quickens.

“Nonsense,” the third one adds. “The bastard has been crowned king and his sister is with him. He’s obviously not the other Stark girl and he’s too old to be the boy. Besides, I heard the boy was a cripple.”

Nymeria stands to his right and he can feel the growl ripple through her.

The fourth wilding turns his way, raising his weapon. Gendry’s hand slips behind him to where he wears his father’s warhammer. “Give us what you have on you, boy. We’ll let you keep your furs.”

Gendry shakes his head. “You’d be a fool to try anything,” he gestures to the many wolves that surround him. “A real fool.”

The first wilding laughs. He moves around the line of the wolves and makes a step for him. Before Gendry can even lift the warhammer, Nymeria springs. She sinks her teeth right into the wilding’s shoulder, growling fiercely. Gendry shouts, the hammer coming up and knocking the wilding’s knees out from under him. He ducks an arrow from another wilding and he’s taken down by a second wolf. Nymeria’s lieutenant. He takes care of the third one with his hammer and the one with the wild hair bolts.

He’s breathing heavily, his hands pressed into the snow. Nymeria releases her jaws from the throat of the wilding, letting him fall limp to the ground. She turns back around and stands before him and Gendry suddenly realizes he is kneeling at a wolf’s feet.  

He looks up and their eyes meet.

_Thank you._

-;

They arrive on the grounds of Winterfell two days later.

Gendry cannot believe they have traveled this far. His feet are finally starting to ache and he suspects it’s because his body knows that they have gotten to their destination. He had spied into a small village a few miles back, learning the news of the war with the wights that was beginning. The wildings had told him what he needed to know about who was ruling this place now.

_“He’s gone.”_

Gendry blinks. “Gone? The King has left?”

The woman nods. “He left about two days ago with my husband and the Hand. They took a whole army with them. They are going to find the Dragon queen.”

He sighs, his eyes darting around. The woman’s looking down at Nymeria. The rest of the wolves had blended into the trees, taking the time to rest while Nymeria had accompanied him onto the grounds.

“I beg your pardon but...” the woman tilts her head to the side, the corner of her mouth lifting up in a smile. “Is that Princess Stark’s direwolf?”

Gendry slaps his mouth shut when he starts to gape. “How did you...?”

“I should explain. My name is Gilly. My husband is Sam Tarly, a good friend of King Jon Snow. When we traveled with him, Jon would tell us stories about the wolves he grew up with and –“ Nymeria gives Gilly’s hand a lick and she laughs in delight. “I guess she is. Hello there, love.”

Nymeria nuzzles her nose against Gilly’s palm. Gilly pats her head, giving Gendry a smile. “Can I ask, what is your name?”

“Gendry,” he murmurs. “Gendry Baratheon.”

The name trips over his lips faster than he can control. He knows that using his father’s last name without being legitimatized is wrong but –

Gilly gives Nymeria one more pat and taps his arm with her hand. “Come.”

-;

Sansa Stark stares at him for several minutes.

She had swooped on Nymeria when the wolf had walked through the door, smothering her face with kisses and giggling like a child again. The wolf had allowed Sansa’s affection for just a little while before suddenly pulling away and coming over to sit beside him again.

“I cannot believe...” Sansa’s voice trails off, a whisper of wonder. “Father told us about you. About you and your brothers and sisters.”

“I’m the only one left, milady,” he says stiffly.

“I heard. I was there in the South when the queen gave the order,” she replies. She shakes her head. “You look so much like him.”

“I’ve been told that quite a bit.”

Sansa sniffs. “I’m sure you have.” She turns to Gilly. “Please send a raven to Jon. I know there isn’t much hope of him receiving it but it is worth a try.”

“Yes milady.” Gilly sweeps from the room at Sansa’s dismissal, leaving them alone.

Sansa waves her hand towards the window. “You are welcome to stay here of course. Rest up and –“

“I beg your pardon,” Gendry interrupts. “But where is Princess Stark?”

Sansa stares. “E-excuse me?”

“Arya,” Gendry says. He wonders if he will lose his head for talking so abruptly to the Lady of Winterfell but he has to know. “Where is she?”

Sansa blinks and her eyes begin to fill up with tears. “Did you know her?”

“I did,” Gendry says. “And I think that’s why...” his hand flutters helplessly to Nymeria.

“That’s why Nymeria knew you,” Sansa finishes softly.

Nymeria pushes her front paws out and slides to the floor, not leaving Gendry’s side. Sansa smiles at the wolf, tilting her head just a little to the side. “She’s bonded with you.”

Gendry raises a brow. “Excuse me?”

Sansa walks over to the small table, gesturing for Gendry to sit across from her. “She can only warg with Arya but you...she has a connection to you. Probably through Nymeria.” She smiles softly. “Amazing.” She looks back at Gendry. “I don’t know where Arya is. My knight, Brienne of Tarth saw her about a year ago. She was traveling with the Hound, Sandor Clegane. She had refused to go with Brienne but she said that Arya looked well. Not dressed or acting like a lady though.”

Gendry chuckles, fighting the disappointment in his chest. “No she wouldn’t be. She, uh, when I realized who she was, I called her ‘milady’. And she pushed me right into the dirt.”

Sansa laughs, a sound like bells. “When did you first meet her?”

Food and drink is brought to them by Gilly and a servant. A plate of meat is put in front of Nymeria which she tears into.

“She has a pack,” Gendry says, picking at the bread with his fingers. “A large one. About a hundred. They’re on the outskirts of Winterfell.”

“The wolves...” Sansa exchanges a glance with Gilly before the other woman leaves the room again. “They came home.”

He tells her of the last two years. Of his time with Arya and what happened to him after and what caused them to get separated.

“They sold me. The Brothers,” he murmurs. “And then the priestess...”

Sansa sucks her bottom lip in between her teeth. “She’s not here anymore.”

“She was here?” Gendry asks and Sansa nods.

“She, uh, she was the one that brought Jon back. But Jon banished her because – because she ordered the execution of Shireen Baratheon as a sacrifice.”

Gendry swallows at the rising lump in his throat. “How...how old was she?”

“Shireen?” Sansa asks and he nods too. “She was fifteen.”  

Fifteen. Five and ten years old. Gendry bites back the rising bile. So she had succeeded. What the red woman had wanted to do to him, she had done to an innocent girl.

“I’m, uh, glad the woman is not here anymore.”

Sansa nods in understanding. She points to the bread before him. “Please eat. You will need your strength.”

“Yes milady.”

-;

Because the armies are gone, he has no where else to go.

So he stays in Winterfell. Sansa invites him to stay at the castle but he refuses, preferring the small forge down by the water. It’s deathly cold there but he manages. The wolves find shelter nearby and he listens to their songs every night as the moon touches the sky once again.

Nymeria tends to her pack but he sees her every day. As he’s assigned tasks as a blacksmith, she would come to him as he worked, often nosing about for scraps she senses he has and of course, she receives them. Her litter mate Ghost shows himself once and Gendry’s about blown away by the magnificence of the King’s wolf. He doesn’t see Ghost again after that, but he knows that he is near.

He’s the first to notice the swell in Sansa’s stomach. Ghost is already circling around her all the time like she’s about to blow.

“When do you deliver?”

Sansa stares at him for a moment, her hand coming down to protectively curl around her belly. “Uh, the spring.”

He doesn’t ask who the father is and she doesn’t tell him.

-;

The youngest surviving Stark arrives within the month.

He’s walking along the grounds with Nymeria when she begins barking and practically vibrating on all fours. He looks to her line of vision and sees the woman pulling the cart. Nymeria takes off like a shot and he follows.

The woman – actually she’s barely more than a girl – goes on immediate defense. Her dagger is out and against his throat within a blink and Nymeria begins to growl.

“It’s okay, Nymeria,” he says softly, his hands held up in surrender. His eye flit to the Stark boy. He can tell already that he is Arya’s brother. “You’re Brandon, aren’t you?”

The boy nods. “Who are you?”

“Gendry,” he says. “...of Winterfell.”

-;

The raven arrives the second morning after Bran’s arrival.

Sansa unrolls the scroll, her eyes raking over the words written on the page. “They’re alive. They met with Daenerys and she has agreed to help.”

Bran breathes a sigh of relief, leaning his head back against the back of his chair. “Thank the gods.”

“Arya?” Gendry cannot help but ask.

Sansa shakes her head sadly. “No. I’m sorry.”

-;

He hears Sansa’s screams in the early evening all the way from the forge.

Nymeria begins to snarl, yapping and scratching at the door. Gendry pulls himself from bed an unlocks the door, following Nymeria out. The warmth is in the air and the first robins have made their appearance. Snow still coats the ground, a fresh layer having come just hours ago. But spring was definitely making it’s first appearance.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Meera tells him with a happy smile when he rounds the corner inside the castle and sees her. “The baby’s coming.”

He waits with Brienne and Bran.

The hours drag by and maesters go in and out of that room like nothing and Sansa’s still screaming in agony.

“Can’t they do anything to ease her pain?!” Bran spits angrily, wincing at the third yell in the last hour.

Brienne claps him on the shoulder with a large hand. “They’re doing all they can for the baby and for your sister.”

Bran doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t say anything else.

It’s then that the large door opens and Gilly walks out, holding a small bundle in her arms.

Gendry laughs, he actually feels himself _laughing_ for the first time in ages, as Gilly places the tiny, squirming baby boy in Bran’s arms.

“How’s Lady Stark?” Brienne asks.

“She’s doing very well,” Gilly replies. “The birth tired her out. She’s sleeping now but the maester seems to think she is going to be just fine. I will be staying with her tonight to watch her while Meera will be watching my boy. Gendry, would you --?”

“Yes ma’am.”

As he turns to head back to the forge to gather up the crib that he had made over the last few weeks, he hears Bran say something that makes his heart tear in two.

“Wait until Arya gets here. She will be out of her mind to have a nephew.”

-;

The wolves are howling.

Nymeria snaps and growls, waking him out of a sound sleep, the first one he had had in ages.

“Nymeria?”

The wolf paws at his thigh, turning to dash over to the locked door. Gendry pushes the blankets from his legs and gets up, walking over to the window and looking out.

There’s a light by the gates.

He opens the door and Nymeria charges out, beginning her song. He grabs up his father’s war hammer and follows but Nymeria manages to disappear into the darkness, her voice being cut off. Just as he’s thinking the worst, there’s a man in front of him, wielding a large sword right at his head.

He blocks the blow with the hammer, steel clanking against steel. The sounds echo off of the quiet grounds and he’s sure it’s going to wake the whole place up. The intruder sends another blow his way, this time at his knees and he blocks that one too. The loudness of the blows and blocks begin and more lights begin to turn on all around them.

A blow hits his stomach and he falls, gasping for air.

Nymeria’s furry body bolts out of the dim, all four of her paws hitting the intruder in the chest and sending him flying. She’s growling and snapping as she sinks her teeth into the man’s neck, ready to squeeze the life right out of him.

 _“_ Nymeria, _no!”_

She obeys instantly, dropping the man from her jaws.

His eyes meet hers. “We need him alive.”

-;

Sansa picks up the glass of ale and throws it right into the intruder’s face. “You will tell the Lady of Winterfell who you are right now before I begin cutting off your fingers, one by one.”

Gendry’s eyes widen in surprise but doesn’t move from his spot. His warhammer is clenched tightly in his hands, Nymeria sitting on one side of him while Ghost flanks Sansa.

She slaps the intruder across the face. Hard.

“Who are you?!”

The man sneers at her. Gendry’s eyes rake over his armor. Nothing telling, just plain black armor. He could be a Lannister or a left over Bolton.

“Gendry, may I have your dagger please?”

The intruder’s eyes widen briefly but his face relaxes, easing into a smile. “Lady Stark, you –“

“Of course, milady,” Gendry replies, pulling the dagger from his belt and passing it to her. She unsheathes the blade, holding it up for the intruder to see.

The man’s smile drops. “You have one last chance, ser. Tell me who you are and you can keep your thumb.”

“I’d listen to her, mate,” Gendry says. His eyes dart to Brienne, standing ready at the doors with her hand on the hilt of her sword. Her blonde brows have risen slightly, and there is an gaze of pride on her face.

“Five...four...” Sansa lowers the blade to the man’s thumb. “...three...two...if you somehow do not pass out from shock of losing your thumb, I could let Ser Gendry have a go at you with his warhammer. I’m sure he’s interested to see how quickly one blow can go right through your knee....one!”

The man screams as the blade slices his skin. “All right! All right!”

Sansa continues to cut, the blood spurting over her own fingers. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I will talk!”

She lifts the blade. “I’m waiting.”

“My name is Ewen of House Bristol. We are a ward of the Lannisters now. The queen sent me ahead to see how well Winterfell still stood and to see if Jon Snow was here. She said if I could...get into the castle.”

“She obviously didn’t care about your wellbeing,” Sansa replies. She wipes the dagger off and passes it back to Gendry. “You will remain here. Cersei will think that you died along your journey.”

“More of us will come,” the man reminds her. Sansa shakes her head.

“Then let them.”

-;

Jon gets back first.

Gendry’s working at the lean-too of his forge, his hammer singing as it hits the metal of the new horse shoes that Sansa had asked him to craft. Nymeria lifts her head and begins to bark, taking off in a blur of white and grey. Gendry drops the tool and picks up his war hammer.

_“Open the gates! The king has returned!”_

Gendry lets out a laugh and follows Nymeria. The gates open and there’s Jon Snow. He’s flanked by Davos Seaworth, and many, many other men.

Gendry manages to dive out of the way as the other direwolf flies by, followed closely by Sansa.

Jon has just managed to slide off of his horse before he’s hit by a ball of white fur. He laughs in joy, patting Ghost on the head. “Hey boy, hey...” Sansa nearly slips to the still snowy grass, righting herself as she reaches them. Nymeria’s yapping happily, turning her attention to Davos.

“Nymeria! To me!” Gendry calls. The direwolf obeys, giving Davos one last lick on the hand before returning to him.

Where’s Arya?

“I have so much to tell you,” Sansa’s saying to Jon as they detangle from each other. “And a surprise,” she adds. She then seems to read Gendry’s thoughts. “Where’s Arya? I thought she would have –“

“Ser Gendry,” Davos reaches out a hand to take his. “I am so relieved that you made it.”

“I am too. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her,” Gendry says, gesturing to the panting Nymeria.

Davos pats Nymeria on the head and she closes her eyes.

“ _No! No, no, no!”_

Gendry’s heart stammers to a stop.

Sansa’s sobbing, clutched to Jon’s chest as she wails. To his surprise, Jon seems to be crying too and oh god, this cannot be happening.

He doesn’t have to ask to know. Their faces say it all.

“Nymeria, come.”

The direwolf follows him as he breaks away from the crowd. He passes by the forge, walking straight down to the still frozen water where the rest of the wolves are hidden in the trees.

He screams.

He screams until he cannot utter another sound. And when he stops, tears streaming down his face, Nymeria begins to howl. Her head turned back, eyes directed to the sky, she sings the wolves mournful song and she cries too. The rest of the wolves pick up the notes, joining in and continuing the grieving song as Nymeria bumps her nose against his cheek, licking away his tears before they freeze on his face.

He’s not a wolf by birth. He’s a bull. But for now, as long as Nymeria walks beside him and Arya doesn’t, he will keep her wolf spirit alive.

**-;**


	2. two

.

.

Jon gazes down at the cooing babe, the corner of his lip turning up. Matthias squeaks out a yawn, reaching a tiny fist up in the air.

“He’s a good sleeper.”

Jon looks around and Sansa’s there at the door, her arms folded in front of her chest. “I’m sorry, what?”

She smiles softly, walking over to his side. “Our son...he sleeps well.”

Jon leans up, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I don’t think I will ever get used to that.”

“What? _Our_ son?” Sansa asks and Jon nods. “Well do get used to it.”

He laughs softly, sliding his arm around her waist. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

“You did what you had to do,” she tells him gently and his heart tears even more. “I wasn’t alone.” Her fingers brush against the edge of the cradle. “Ser Gendry made this.”

Jon raises a brow. “Really?”

“He’s a fine blacksmith and an even better carpenter,” Sansa says with a smile. “Look,” she points to the end of the cradle where the letter M was carved. “He added so much detail.”

Jon watches her trace the M with her index finger. “Sansa who is he?”

Sansa cuts her eyes back to him, eyebrows hiked. “Arya didn’t tell you?”

“I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to her,” Jon replies, his voice dropping when Sansa turns her face away. “Who is that man? Why is Nymeria bonded with him? Why was he here for the past several months?”

“He...” Sansa glances to Matthias. “He was heading here, with Nymeria. The rest of Nymeria’s pack lives in the woods. I knew I could trust him because of Nymeria and...he knew Arya. They traveled together for many months after Father’s death.”

“She must have told him to go North if they got separated,” Jon muses. Matthias coos, squirming a little on his back and kicking his tiny feet in the air.

“He loved her, Jon. He loved her like I love you.”

He slowly raises his head, staring at Sansa like she had suddenly grown horns. Her eyes widen slightly with panic and she moves towards the door before he can get to it, blocking it with her body. “Don’t do anything foolish, Jon. It’s not like _that_.”

“You just said it was!”

“What does it matter?” Sansa spits. “Arya’s...” The word cannot come to her lips and she will not force it. “Let the man grieve before you try to rip his lungs out.”

Jon scowls. Matthias’ lets out a sudden cry and he walks back over to their son’s cradle, easing himself with the baby’s presence. Sansa takes a tentative step to beside him, resting a hand on his arm.

“Why is love so bad?” she murmurs.

“It’s not that,” Jon says softly. “It’s that _now_ we will never get to see them share the experiences of real life,” he mutters. “The war is over. This shouldn’t be –“ His voice breaks and Sansa wipes away a single tear that streaks her face. “She should be here.”

Sansa wraps her arms around his shoulders and he pulls her in, holding her so close to him that their bodies are almost one. “She is,” Sansa murmurs into his shoulder. “She is here.”

-;

“What happened to her?”

Jon stares into the blinking candlelight so long that purple stars dance in front of his eyes. He doesn’t look the way of the blacksmith, his eyes trailing down to the paper in front of him.

“She let about ten wights surround her.” Jon licks his chapped lips, fighting for the words that do not want to come. “To distract them so I could get away.”

“And you didn’t...go back for her?” Gendry asks softly.

“I did,” Jon replies. He finally looks up at the other man, swallowing. “She was...gone before I could get there. She was...” His eyes burn with tears. “She had sacrificed herself so I could get out of there.”

“She didn’t turn, did she?” The look on Gendry’s face is suddenly reminding Jon of a wild animal. A wolf captured....a bull trapped in a pen. “Did she turn?”

Jon’s silence is enough. He hears Gendry swear softly under his breath, turning away.

“I ended it.”

Gendry looks back. “What?”

“I found her...after. I ended it.”

Hot stinging tears fall from Gendry’s eyes. He hears Nymeria whine softly in the back of her throat, pushing her head into his thigh.

“Sansa told me what you did for Arya,” Jon says after several seconds. “That you kept her safe. You probably did a better job than I ever could have.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Gendry spits, turning back towards him.

“It doesn’t matter what it was like,” Jon reminds him gently. “You protected her, kept her alive and gave her two years. Thank you.”

“A lot of good it did,” Gendry takes the other chair in the solar, lowering his body down into it. He suddenly has never felt so tired. “She wanted me to come here. I didn’t listen and I got myself captured and nearly burned at the stake.”

The two men sit in silence for what feels like an eternity. Nymeria’s strong presence and warmth fills the room, easing both of them.

As Gendry thinks, his hand buried in Nymeria’s fur, something begins to settle into his heart. The grief that had filled him for years, the grief that had felt like a knife right to his heart when he learned about Arya...it still hurt. Always would. But something else was there.

_Hope._

It didn’t feel right. Arya wouldn’t have chanced something like that in the event that it didn’t work. 

Jon lets out a sigh. “I’m going back.”

Gendry nods, getting to his feet. Nymeria hops up on all fours, bumping her head against Jon’s hand. He smiles down at the direwolf, gently stroking his fingers over the top of her head. “She loves you.”

There’s another twist in his chest and Gendry nods.

Jon blows out the candle and they walk together down the corridor. “Stay in the castle tonight. It’s much too cold to go back to the forge.”

Gendry waves away the invitation. “Thank you, your grace but no. I prefer the forge.”

Jon shrugs. “Suit yourself. Good night Gendry.”

“Good night.”

The king turns left down the end of the corridor, down where his and Sansa’s chambers lay. Gendry turns right, taking the stairs two at a time. Nymeria jogs ahead once they reach the out doors, and she dances across the snow. He follows her as close as he can, and breathes in the frozen air as much as he can until they reach the door to the forge.

Nymeria scratches at the door, waiting until he pushes it open and then trots right over to where a pile of new weapons lay. A long sword, a dagger, and his warhammer.

“Do you think...?” He looks down at the animal and he swears she just _nodded_.

There’s a small container of food sitting on the table beside his cot. Oatcakes and dried fruit that Gilly had brought to him this morning. A satchel was under his bed and his furs...

Do it. Find out for sure.

He could go back to the place of the battle. That wasn’t far from here, he could get there on foot in about twelve days. Davos had mentioned that the wights had all withered away into nothing once the Night King had died but –

_If..._

“Do you think I should?” he asks Nymeria again and she yaps.

Nymeria would know. Nymeria would feel it.

Okay...

_Okay._

-;

Gilly knocks a third time on the door. Why is it so quiet? Normally she’d be hearing Gendry’s hammer pounding already.

She tries the handle, the new satchel of food tucked underneath her arm. To her surprise, the handle gives and she nearly topples through.

The forge is quiet and empty.

Gendry is gone, Nymeria is gone and if Gilly listens closely, the song of the wolves that she almost always hears in the morning has silenced.

Gilly sets the food down on the table, turning on the spot. She nearly jumps out of her skin when Sam appears at the doorway. “Are you all right?”

She shakes her head. “He’s gone.”

“Gendry?” Sam asks, his own eyes darting around the room. “Why would he --?”

Gilly spies a piece of paper sitting tucked underneath a candlestick base. She pulls it out, her eyes darting over the scrawled words. She remembered Gendry admitting that he couldn’t read or write when he first arrived. Queen Sansa had something to say about that.

“’ _I’m going to look for her. To be sure. Nymeria’s with me.’”_ She stares at Sam in shock. “How is that –oh my gosh, we have to tell the king and queen.”

They don’t have to go far. Sansa’s walking across the grounds, baby Matthias bundled in her arms when they walk out of the forge together. Her eyes widen in alarm when she sees the two of them. “What has happened?”

“Gendry’s gone,” Sam says, taking the paper from Gilly and presenting it to her. “He’s going to look for Arya’s body but –“

Sansa stares at the scratched words, Matthias starting to whine in her arms. “That’s not...” A sudden realization sets in. “Nymeria.”

“What?”

“Nymeria would know if Arya was dead or not. She bonded with Gendry, she knows Gendry was Arya’s mate so that would make sense if Nymeria _knew..._ ” Her mouth spreads in a smile, hope filling her chest. “Nymeria would know.”

“So what should we do? Should we tell King Jon?” Gilly asks.

Sansa shakes her head. “I will tell him.”  She looks back and forth between the two of them. “Please keep this to yourselves until the king knows, all right?”

Gilly nods. “Absolutely.”

Sansa dismisses them then, turning to walk back to the castle where Jon still slept. Once she is out of the sight of the others, she holds Matthias tightly to her chest and breaks into a hurried trot.

She has to get to Jon.

-;

The snow’s still so deep.

He didn’t even bother to take a horse. The horse wouldn’t have made it very far in the frigid cold and he wasn’t going to risk an accident or an injury.

The wolves knew where to go.

He follows Nymeria. She brings up the rear of her pack, the others spread out in a thin line ahead of her.

She keeps watch and so does he.

He wonders if he is making a big mistake.

This could all be vain and Arya could be dead anyway.

But Nymeria...Nymeria would tell him.

The first day goes well and they pass over twenty miles. His legs are screaming at him when the wolves rest for the night. He strips off the top layer of his furs and wipes away the sweat coating his neck and chest. The icy air cools his skin immediately and he wraps the furs back around his body once again.

A fire is built, a small one that can be hidden by the trees to not give away his location, just in case. He huddles by it, the only skin bared is his hands and face. The wolves take to the wood and he hears their scuffle and the song begins as the first star lights the sky.

The wolves hunt for him.

They take down two deer, feasting on one while the other is deposited right at his feet.

He skins it and builds a bigger fire to roast the strips of meat, packing them back into his sack. Nymeria sleeps beside him that night and he digs his hand into her fur in thanks.

He sleeps and dreams of children with black hair and grey eyes.

-;

The blizzard happens on the seventh night.

There’s no shelter anywhere near and Gendry begins to wonder if this is it. Snowflakes cling to his lashes and freeze to his facial hair. His lips are chapped and bleeding and his jaw is so stiff that he can barely move it.

Nymeria bumps his leg with her head.

He has to keep moving. It’s the only way.

He follows Nymeria.

When he sees the cave he’s sure he’s going to cry with relief.

He steps through the mouth and holds his hammer high in his trembling hands, waiting as the wolves scamper ahead. There’s no sign of human or other animal life inside.

Get to the back. Get as far away from the opening as you can.

Gendry strips his back off and finds his dagger still taped to his leg. He strips the dagger off and looks to the opening of the cave again, wondering if he can get outside to pull branches from a nearby tree.

Nymeria barks and he looks down at her. Something about her eyes, something telling him not to move a muscle back outside.

So he doesn’t.

He arranges his furs as best he can, huddled near the back of the cave. To his relief the floor is dry and there are dried leaves all over which he pushes into a makeshift bed, the furs on top.

When he lays down, Nymeria wraps herself around his body. The other wolves make a chain in front of him, and he’s asleep before his head even rests against her fur.

-;

Small hands are patting against his face, pushing his hair back from his forehead. He bats at them, cracking one eyelid open.

_Arya._

No no no, that’s not possible.

_No._

“You stupid...”

What a nice dream, he thinks as he slides back into the darkness of sleep, Nymeria’s warmth still wrapped around him.

-;

On the third day in the cave, he wakes again.

A great wracking cough nearly shatters his lungs, bringing him from his sleep. He coughs again, managing to free a hand from his furs to wipe across his mouth.

He hadn’t noticed the symptoms in the cold.

“Gendry?”

He looks to the voice, unable to believe what he had just heard. He must still be sleeping.

This has to be a dream. _Has_ to be.

Or maybe a nightmare. 

“Are you...” he feels incredibly idiotic forming the words. “...are you real?”

Arya nods. “Very much so.”

It’s all he can do not to reach for her but he gets the sense that that is something she does not want at the moment.

“You were asleep for quite some time,” she tells him softly. “You...scared me.”

“Sorry.” He has a string of retorts on his tongue but he holds them back. Instead he asks, “How did you...how are you here?”

“This is my cave,” she murmurs. “I was hunting when you staggered in here.” She smiles at Nymeria. “She found you.”

His hand automatically seeks Nymeria’s warmth. She leans her magnificent head into his touch, a low rumble coming from her belly. “She did,” he agrees.

Gendry can’t help but stare at her.

She’s grown so much.

Well not exactly. She’s still short as ever but her features had changed. She’s not a little girl anymore. She’s not the mouthy young teen that he had been forced to leave behind years ago.

Replaced was a warrior woman. She had her Needle at her hip, a dagger on the other side. Her hair is long now, pulled back into a loose ponytail at the base of her neck and furs draped over her tiny frame.

He wants to hold her.

“How...how are you alive?”

She looks away, towards the mouth of the cave. It’s then that he notices the low firelight, throwing dark shadows everywhere as the flames dance and crackle in their pit. One of the wolves pants happily, rolling over onto his back to show his belly to his companion.

“Jon told me you sacrificed yourself to save the others. He told me you turned.” His voice is coming out more desperate and pained. “He told me he killed you.”

There are tears in Arya’s eyes when she brings her gaze back to him.

“I did.”

Gendry’s not sure what to say to that.

Arya stares at Nymeria, almost like she’s concentrating and Gendry suddenly feels the shift of the bond.

Now that Arya’s here, his connection with Nymeria cracks. He doesn’t mind.

He’s not a wolf.

No matter how hard he tries to be.

“I can’t tell you what happened,” she says after what seems like an eternity. “I don’t know if I ever can.”

Gendry blinks, licking his lips. And then, “Okay.”

Arya turns around quickly, staring at him. “Okay?”

He nods. “It’s not my story to know. But if you ever do wish to tell me, I will listen.”

The look she gives him is so grateful and mixed with tenderness that Gendry almost has to look away.

But he can’t. He can’t stop gazing at her.

She’s real and she’s here.

“I missed you.”

Her back is to him when she whispers back, so quiet that he almost misses it, “I missed you too.”

-;

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be a bit longer but the flow didn't work well. Leave reviews if you would like part three!


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